


Understanding Your Littleone

by SawyerXT



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Abuse, Age Regression/De-Aging, Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Healthy/Unhealthy Coping Mechanism, Little!EddieKaspbrak, Little!StanleyUris, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reddie, SFW Ageplay, Self-Harm, Stenbrough, Suicidal Thoughts, mostly stenbrough, sfw age regression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29424399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SawyerXT/pseuds/SawyerXT
Summary: A bunch of Little!LosersClub oneshots.(Mostly Stan, Bill, Eddie, and Richie though.)Let me know if you have any ideas.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 21





	1. Playdate

There was a knock at the door and Bill sighed. He had been saved from the brat, by the bell.  
For now.  
He stood up and stretched, putting his hand on the doorknob and glancing at his little. Never in Bill’s life would he ever have guessed that he was going to be a caregiver for an age regressor, yet there he was.  
In love with one.

Stan looked over at the door from the couch and sat up his curls falling in front of his eyes. “I wanna get it!” He whined.  
“No, St-Stanny. Sit and put your d-duh-diaper on otherwise I’m gonna d-do it for y-you.” Bill pushed Stan’s hair out of the way, then kissed his forehead.

“I don’t see why I gotta wear one!” Stan pouted and he laid back down on the couch, turning up the volume to his favourite show ‘Bluey’.  
“R-Remember last time, wh-wh-when I let you d-decide if you w-wuh-wanted to wear a diaper? Wh-what happened, baby?” Bill smiled a little.

The person on the other side of the door knocked again and Bill raised his eyebrows at Stan. Stan’s face grew red. “I-I had an accident…”  
Bill nodded and then opened the front door.

Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak stood there, Eddie sucking on a pacifier and Richie holding Eddie’s hand, a backpack slung over his shoulder.  
“Hi, Bwilly…” Eddie said shyly.  
Stan peeked out from behind Bill’s back and threw his diaper on the sidewalk with a small ‘hmph’. Bill rolled his eyes and picked it up as Stan ran away in his tighty whities and unbuttoned onesie.  
“Hi Stan the Man…?” Richie said, confused at Stan’s behaviour and confused at why he just got a diaper thrown at him.  
“More like Stan the Brat.” Bill groaned. “I’m h-huh-having a hard time g-getting him into little sp-sp-sp-space. And he won’t put his d-diaper on.”

Eddie ran past Bill and into the living room of Bill’s house, where Stan sat on the couch, arms folded. Eds hopped up next to his curly-haired friend with a smile. Stan made another small ‘hmph’ and turned away.  
“Whas wrong, Stan the Man?” Eddie asked sweetly, but Stan still ignored him. “Bwilly says you don’t wanna put on your nappy.”  
“Drop the baby talk, wheezy.” Stan snapped in a bitter voice. Eddie recoiled at the mocking nickname and his eyes welled up with tears.

Bill walked over, Richie at his side, and picked up Stan.  
“You don’t ever punish him do you?” Richie furrowed his eyebrows in concern for Eddie. He held the boy, planting kisses on his smooth forehead and rocking him.  
Bill glared at Richie.

Did he ever punish Stanley?  
When was the last time Stan had been spanked?  
No. Bill thought. I can’t do that to Stan. I love him too much. I could never hurt him, whether it was just for discipline or not.

Richie was eyeing Bill waiting for an answer so Bill shook his head. He wanted to sound tough but his disastrous stutter prevented that.  
“D-Don’t t-tuh-tell me what to d-do with my l-luh-little.” He sputtered angrily, carrying Stanley to his bedroom and laying him down on the bed.  
Stan didn’t kick or fight back. He just laid down patiently waiting, seeing how upset Bill was made him upset too. So he let Bill pull off his underwear and put on his nappy.  
The fact that Stan was listening a bit better improved Bill’s mood drastically and he couldn’t believe he’d even thought about spanking Stan.

When he walked back out to the living room with the curly-haired little, he saw Eddie on the couch watching ‘Bluey’ just like Stanley had been doing earlier. Stan sat next to him and looked up at Bill.  
“Daddy? Can we have snacks?”  
Bill smiled and kissed Stan’s wet lips gently, with a small nod.

Bill had noticed things Stan did while in littlespace. He’d excessively lick his lips and blow small spit bubbles, he’d make little cooing noises when he was too busy playing to talk, he’d hide from Bill while using his diaper, and he’d stop being his usual chatty self if he was sad.  
Bill just found everything about Stanley cute.  
The way his voice cracked, reminding Bill that he was still 14 instead of 1, the way his nose curved, the way he jumped at the sound of a dog barking… Bill could go on for hours.

Sometimes the things Stan did reminded Bill how complicated it was to get to know someone. The fact that Bill could tell Stanley was hungry just by the look on his face made him proud.

Bill realized he was taking his time with the food and he didn’t want Stan to think he’d forgotten about him. He poured goldfish crackers into a big bowl and brought it out to the couch where the littles -and Richie- sat.  
He set the bowl between them and Stan shoved a fist full into his mouth. Bill ran his fingers through Stan’s thick hair and kissed his head.  
Eddie watched Stan furiously eat the crackers and he shoved a handful into his own mouth, crunching them with gusto. When Richie paid no attention to Eddie, he did it again, this time with more crackers.

Stan watched. Not wanting to be outdone, he grabbed a bigger handful and jams it into his mouth.  
Eddie watches Stan try and chew but the wad of crackers was too big. Eddie giggled and Stan covered his mouth with one hand, terrified he was going to choke. Eddie snorted and Stan coughed, laughing more and more with each second passing.  
Finally, Stan couldn’t take it. He coughed out the crackers all over the floor and giggled until he couldn’t breathe.

Bill looked at Stan and Eddie curiously, trying to figure out why the hell he knew this boy better than he knew himself some days, and other days he felt like he didn’t know this boy at all.


	2. Be Brave, Billy

Bill locked the door to his room and sank down to the floor, his head in his hands.  
He was so sick of doing this over and over and over again everyday.  
Continuously being blamed for things he didn’t do. Being blamed for Georgie’s death. Being blamed for his own panic attacks. The blame needed to go away before Bill snapped or bled out from his cuts.

He tugged at his own hair and began blindly searching around for the loose floorboard. He needed them. He needed his razors. Stat.  
As his hands found the rough edge of the wooden plank, he yanked it up and reached down.  
His shaking fingers brushed over something smooth and cold. He pulled it out as he was unable to recognize what the object was by just touching it.  
A phone.  
A phone?  
He suddenly remembered where it had come from. Stan had given it to him one night just before he had fallen asleep. Bill told him to put it down there.

He pulled it out and saw a small yellow sticky note float back down into the opening in the floor. He reached back down and pulled it out.  
‘Call me. I know you feel sad, littleone, but please call me.’   
Bill recognized that handwriting anywhere. It was Stanley’s neat scrawl that Bill could glance at and instantly place to Stan’s careful and soft hand.  
Bill sighed and felt a tear fall down his face.  
He powered on the phone and looked for Stan’s name in the contacts.  
It was right at the top.  
With a deep breath in, he called his boyfriend and let Stan’s instincts do the rest.

…

A subtle tap on the window was the only thing that pulled Bill out of bed. His legs didn’t seem to be working properly and his mind was spinning causing his stomach to feel nauseous as well.  
He slid the window open without a sound and he felt steady arms engulf him into a hug. The familiar scent of the synagogue's wax candles and shampoo told him it was Stan. Bill felt absolutely hopeless as he hugged back.  
Something slightly cold yet recognizable was pressed against his lips and he knew Stan wasn’t kissing him. It was something almost as equally calming.  
He gladly let Stan slide the object into his mouth and he sucked on it silently, Stanley picking him up and laying him in bed.

“You’re okay, baby. Just take your pacifier and relax. I’m here now…” Stan pushed Bill’s auburn hair out of his eyes and kissed him between the eyebrows.

Stan put down a large, black, backpack and unzipped it revealing an assortment of pastel coloured items, and Bill could tell what each of them were at a glance.  
Stan pulled out a blanket with small dinosaurs on it, a storybook, and then a clear baby bottle filled with milk.  
Bill reached out a hand and made a small whining noise. Stan looked up and looked back down at the milk before sitting next to Bill and pulling the pacifier out of his mouth. He put the bottle up to the boy’s mouth.  
Bill began to drink it, looking up at Stan with his large brown eyes. Stan took that opportunity to turn over Bill’s arms and check his wrists for marks.  
There was nothing new.  
Stan smiled and looked down at Bill, proud as hell.  
Bill had called him. He had called him instead of harming himself. Stan was shocked and felt so much love for this boy at the moment that he had no fucking clue what to do with himself.

“You didn’t make any more owies baby! I’m so proud of you!” Stan kept the bottle to Bill’s mouth with one hand but used the other to push up Bill’s shirt so he could kiss his stomach.  
Bill stopped drinking and pushed the bottle away with a giggle.

“Dada loves you, Billy. Okay?” Stan pulled Bill into his lap and kissed his lips. He could taste the angel milk and a little bit of spit and he wanted more. More kisses from Bill, but Stanley knew better.  
Not while Bill was regressed.  
He tried to remember what Richie had told him about age regression a few months prior. Stan had been birdwatching when Rich came and sat down next to him, totally uninvited.

“When someone is in little space, they’re in the mindset of a child. They’re basically completely unaware of their real age. So, trying to fuck an age regressor is like fucking a one-year-old, or two, or however old they are while regressed.” Richie had said, watching Eddie play in the sandbox at the park. Stan didn’t remember how that conversation started, all he knew was that he had made an urgent mental note about how it went.   
Every word was burned into his brain.  
“Long story short...trying to fuck or romantically kiss a regressor is kinda like pedophilia in a way.” Richie pressed his lips together and then ran off. But he only ran off because Eddie was trying to eat sand.

Stan held Bill close and grabbed Bill’s favourite book: “Rumple Buttercup. The story of bananas, belonging, and being yourself.” He opened to page one and began, Bill still in his lap, half asleep as soon as Stan’s lips began to form words.


	3. Tics

Richie talked too much.  
He knew he talked too much.  
But he just couldn’t help it.  
No matter how hard he tried to shut the hell up, he just...had to spit out the words.

His mom took him to the therapist and they asked about him and his sudden...compulsions.  
His doctor said they were something called verbal tics.

“He has non-verbal tics also, Mrs. Tozier. Like, adjusting his glasses is a simple one, but also making a small popping sound with his thumbs.” Dr. Renee said simply.  
At that moment Richie had the sudden urge to pop his fingers. All because the stupid doctor had mentioned it one freaking time.   
It was like an itch that needed to be scratched. Sometimes the “itch” would go away on its own if Richie left it be, but sometimes it was just too urgent and Richie’s body forced him to do it.  
It led him to say vulgar things to adults and strangers, and sometimes he said annoying things to his friends.

He hated whatever these stupid ‘tics’ were.  
And there was only one thing that made them go away for a while.

...

His parents left the house and immediately Richie called out to the empty house: “When the cats are away...THE MICE WILL PLAY!”  
He ran to his room, flung open his closet door, grabbed a pacifier, and jammed it into his mouth before shooting Eddie Kaspbrak a message.

RichardoTrashwardo:   
Parents = Out of the house for a business trip.  
Richie = A FREE SPIRIT

Eddie_Bear:   
And…? Your point is?

RichardoTrashwardo:   
:(  
Dada…?

Eddie_Bear:   
…

RichardoTrashwardo:   
Dada…?

Eddie_Bear:   
Yes ‘Chi?

RichardoTrashwardo:   
Make my tics go away dada…

Eddie_Bear:   
I’ll be over in a bit.   
Just sit tight and don’t hurt yourself.

RichardoTrashwardo:   
:O  
I loves you

Richie smiled broadly and pulled a colouring book out of a drawer in his closet and some crayons. He thought for a second before pulling out some footie pajamas and throwing them on his bed.  
He didn’t want to put them on yet though.  
He was waiting for Eddie.

After a few more minutes of patiently waiting, Richie heard a knock at the door. Carefully, he tottered down the stairs and put his hand on the doorknob. Before opening it he knocked back: One, two two, one, two.  
He waited and heard Eddie knock back: One, three, two two.

Richie threw the door open and hugged the smaller boy.  
“EDDIE!” Richie cheered. His pacifier fell to the floor with a small ‘clink’ but Rich didn’t care. Eddie was here.  
All because Richie wanted to be small and he wanted someone to be there for him.

Eddie picked up the paci and closed the door behind him. “Hey ‘Chi! What do you wanna do today?”  
Richie jumped onto the couch and put on his best British accent. “Fix me up Dr. K! I need jammies, and nappies, and a bottle of some bloody good angel milk!” He exclaimed, jumping up and down on the couch like a wild animal. Eddie smiled to himself wondering how in the world he scored a boy like this one.  
“Then bring me to your stash of jammies, nappies, and bottles, will you? Otherwise, I can’t fix you up.” Eddie began to walk towards the stairs and Richie rushed right past him, skipping steps as he went.  
“Careful, Rich! You’re gonna fall, I swear.” Eddie warned, biting his lip.

Richie jumped into bed and held up soft pastel footie pajamas and a dinosaur diaper.  
Eddie giggled a little bit and Richie frowned.  
“What’re you laughin’ at dada?” Richie looked a bit frightened and began to fall out of littlespace. He felt the urge to pop his thumbs and crack his neck.

Tics.

Eddie noticed Richie’s expression and smiled sweetly.  
“I’m not laughing at your space baby. I’m laughing at how adorable you can be. Don’t worry, bubba.” Eddie ruffled Richie’s messy black hair as Richie’s eyes brightened again.  
“Ey mate!” Richie put on his accent again. “After this, let’s play pirates!”

Eddie nodded.  
“Of course ‘Chi. I’d never miss a game of pirate with you.”


	4. Cranberry Juice

Bill was on his phone and peacefully laying on the couch believing Stanley was taking a nap. Sometimes Bill was never sure though. Stan constantly bragged to Eddie about having ‘quiet feet’ all because Bill had said that when he hadn’t heard him enter the room one time.

“My dada says I have ‘q u i e t’ feet.” Stan giggled to Eddie in the park once.  
“What is that supposed to mean? Everybody’s feets is quiet!” Eddie had been confused.

But Stan could be halfway to China at that point and Bill would have never noticed because of how sneaky that boy was.

It took a while to get Stan to lay down and rest, but after a few lullabies, stories, and sips of angel milk, Stan realized Bill wasn’t giving up at this whole ‘nap’ idea. Especially because of the way Stan had been acting up that morning; throwing toys, not eating his breakfast, making Bill clean up his spot at the table after painting, drawing on the chairs with markers. And that’s only the beginning of the things he did.  
So a nap wasn’t an option. It was a requirement for the curly-haired little.

Bill’s earbuds were plugged into the jack and he was scrolling through a list of music on Spotify when through the headphones he heard a crash coming from the kitchen.  
He jerked upward in shock and slid to his feet to the floor as silently as possible, breathing heavily.

“S-Stanley…? Is that you…?” Bill asked, furrowing his eyebrows. He listened but heard nothing.

As he turned the corner into the kitchen, he saw a large, red, spreading stain. At first Bill’s heart leaped and then it sputtered to a steady beat again.  
The half-empty jug of cranberry juice explained it all.

“STAN!” Bill yelled, completely pissed. But Stan was nowhere in sight. Not even a single giggle could be heard.  
“S-Stanley, I’m n-n-nuh-not playing hide-and-seek r-right now. Th-this isn’t funny.” Bill picked up the sticky bottle of cranberry juice and set it down in the sink. He stepped around the puddle of juice and peeked into the hallway wondering if Stan had made away with a cup of the sweet liquid.  
Bill thought about this as he tiptoed down the hall.  
If Stan had managed to get away with a cup, there would probably be a trail of juice leading away from the kitchen.  
Little Stan had absolutely no balance or hand-eye coordination. Just his quiet, fuzzy-sock-covered feet.

“B-Blue Jay, where are you…?” Bill knitted his brows in confusion.  
As silently as he could, he opened the door to Stan’s room and glanced at the crib.  
Nothing.  
No Stan.  
And no Mochi. Stan’s stuffed bird.

Bill sighed in frustration. This kid was a huge handful some days.  
“S-St-Stan, I’m not playing games! G-get back in h-here and bring M-Muh-Mochi with you.” Bill tried to put on a stern voice, but his stutter seemed to fail him each and every time.

There was a giggle coming from the bathroom and Bill pinched the bridge of his nose in almost a comical way. He hurried over and shoved the bathroom door open.  
Still no Stan. Just an empty cup of juice.

“S-Stanley Uris! I s-swear to god! Get y-your ass in here now!” Bill raised his voice, hoping he didn’t scare the littleone too much. There was no response. Bill was only greeted with silence in the large house.  
Bill crept down the hallway and toward the stairs. He grasped the squeaky railing in a tight fist and peered up the steps. There was a faint giggle.  
As Bill felt the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach those worries were washed away with Stan’s signature trademark. A dull poke shot through the back of his neck and he looked up the staircase, touching his hand to the spot where he felt the pain.  
At his feet there was a small paper bird made out of brightly coloured origami paper. The kind of paper bird only Stanley knew how to make. A smile tugged at Bill’s lips and he sighed, gently picking up the paper. Its pointed beak had stabbed Bill as it fell.  
“S-Stanley...b-b-baby...come here.” He softened his voice hoping to lure Stan down the stairs.  
He still received no response.

The boy climbed the stairs quickly, not enjoying the screeching sound they made under his feet.  
He could hear the sound of his heart and breathing, but still no birdboy.  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of baby blue and ran in that direction. Ducking into a guest bedroom was the curly-haired little he was searching for. Bill sprinted toward him and Stan spun around in surprise.  
His shrill giggles broke the silence and Bill lifted him up in the air.  
“THERE YOU ARE!” Bill yelled and Stan hugged his dada tightly. “Y-you can’t h-huh-hide forever, blue jay.”

Stan said nothing, he only babbled incoherently, spit bubbles forming between his lips. He waved around Mochi and the bird stuffie made it’s usual rattling sound almost as if the bird was talking for Stan.  
“A-Are you aware how b-buh-big of a mess you made d-down in the kitchen?” Bill asked softly. Stan’s face went red. He avoided eye contact and Bill knew that he felt bad about it.  
“Yah dada...I sorry…” Stan hugged Mochi close, hoping he wouldn’t get in trouble.  
“A-And where are you s-supposed to be right n-n-n-now?” Bill pressed his forehead to Stan’s.  
“Sleeping…” Stan still wouldn’t look Bill in the eyes.  
“R-Right. Sl-sleeping. B-But why are you up t-th-then?”  
“Cuz...uh…” He tried to fabricate a lie as fast as his little brain could --which wasn’t very fast- so he said the first thing that came to mind. “I had to tinkle.”  
Bill couldn’t help but laugh. Never once in his life had he heard Stan say the word ‘tinkle’ unless he was mocking Eddie for saying it. “B-But you’re w-w-wearing a diaper.”

Stan didn’t reply. He just looked down at the stuffie in his hands and blew small spit bubbles.  
“S-Stanley…?” Bill asked using his warning tone of voice.  
Stan still refused to reply. Instead, he sucked in a deep breath and sneezed directly in Bill’s face.  
With another heavy sigh, Bill brought Stanley back down the stairs and laid him in his crib.

Stan rolled onto his side and kissed Mochi’s little beak before looking up at his caregiver/boyfriend.  
Bill kissed his nose softly and pushed the curls out of the boy’s big golden eyes.

“Sleepytime, buba.” Bill whispered, his stutter disappearing. “Okay?”  
Stan nodded, picking up the pacifier that was laying next to him and putting it in his mouth.

As Bill left the room he wondered how the fuck he was going to clean up that damn cranberry juice.


	5. Get Along (pt 1)

Eddie looked up at his dad then back down at his lame, old, toys. By his ‘dad’ I mean Frank Kaspbrak. Eddie’s real father. Flesh and blood.  
Frank had taken in Eddie after Sonia had a heart attack and was hospital-bound. He was much more open and accepting than Sonia and he could tell that Eddie was deeply appreciative.

“Dada?” Eddie asked sweetly. Frank put down his newspaper and leaned forward.  
“Yeah, sport?” He asked. He knew what was coming and it was about time.  
“I need new toys! These ones are old and broken…” Eddie picked up a toy train and pointed at a broken wheel. “See? A train would go right off the tracks if it was broken like this!”

Frank picked him up and took the train walking right over to the garbage can. He used the foot pedal to open the lid, but as he was about to throw it away Eddie screamed “NO!”  
Frank yanked his hand away from the opening, still holding the train. “But I thought you said it was broken?”  
“You can’t throw away Choo-Chi! He’s special! Cuz he’s got a square face!” Eddie snatched the train back and hugged it.

Frank laughed and nodded. He took Eddie to his room and began dressing him. He put Eddie in a pair of black shorts with rainbow suspenders and a bow tie. His t-shirt was a pale baby blue with little clouds, and Frank decided it would be even better to tuck it into his shorts. Eddie picked out a black pacifier clip and a pale blue paci to match his theme for the day.  
“Can Richie come with us?” Eddie looked hopeful, his eyes shining in the light from the window.  
Frank nodded, smiling.  
“Of course Eddie-bear. Your dada can come.”  
Eddie ran for the phone and picked it up, dialing Richie Tozier’s number, knowing it by heart.

Maggie Tozier picked up on the other side. “Hello? Tozier household, Maggie Tozier speaking.”  
Eddie grew nervous, but his dad waved him on from the doorway to the living room.

“Hewwo Miss Tozier. Uh...it’s Eddie.” He said in his sweet agere voice.  
“Hello, Eddie! How are you?” She chirped, a smile present in her voice. Mrs. Tozier was always the sweetest parent when it came to his friend’s family. But Eddie knew deep down that his own father was sweeter.  
“Ima pretty good! But can I talk to my dada?” He asked, feeling a little less nerve-queasy. Maggie told him ‘of course, he’s right here.’ and Richie came to the phone.

“Heya baby boy! How’s my little puppy?” Richie teased and Eddie giggled.  
“Hi, daddy! Is you busy today, cuz my dad is planning on taking me to the mall and we’re gonna get some toys and stuff.” Eddie played with the phone cord, blushing. His stomach was fluttering and he couldn’t wait. Maybe Richie would carry him, or maybe Rich would let him play in the play place.  
“Well, I was doing homework with Stanley, but I’ll come with for sure,” Richie said, voice cracking a little when mentioning the word homework.   
Eddie frowned.  
Stan? What was Stan doing there? Why did Rich invite Eddie over but not him?  
“I- uh...well...you can keep doing homework with Stan if you want I guess…” He said before swallowing the only spit left in his dry mouth. Rich went silent for a second. But then he began to whisper.  
“No baby boy. It’s not like that. Stan just needed a place to stay for the night. His dad is being a dick again.”  
Eddie nodded, his worries fading away. “Oh! Okay. Is he okay?”  
“Yeah! Yeah, Stanny's fine. RIGHT STAN!? Right.” He yelled in the vicinity of Stan’s direction and then brought the phone back to his ear. That was enough to turn Eddie into what Rich called ‘a giggly little squirt’.  
‘Be here in ten Rich.” Eddie giggled. “Pwease?”  
“Of course my itty bitty banana.” Richie teased. He hung up and rushed back to his room.

“Where are you going…?” Stan asked, glancing up at Richie from his old, over-used, and sad-looking, bird book. ‘Stan and his birds’ is what Bill would say while rolling his eyes if he were there at the moment. But unfortunately, Bill was heading to some speech test up in Bangor for the day and he wouldn’t be back until around six or seven that night.  
“Shopping. With Eds.” Richie replied simply. Stan looked a bit sad at this statement. He pressed his lips together in dismay and looked back down at his reading. “You wanna come with? I mean, I have to ask Eds, but I’m sure he’d be okay with you coming with Stan, my main man.”  
Stan looked back up and smiled a little, his curls falling in front of his eyes.  
“Sure. I’d like that.” He said, closing the book and pulling himself to his feet.

Eddie was excited. His legs were shaking in his fuzzy socks, his hands were practically numb, and he felt like running around the house faster than Bill’s bike could go down a hill.  
“When is dada gonna be here, dad?” He stood in the kitchen doorway shaking an elephant-shaped rattle without even noticing. He just liked the sound that it made, In the Kaspbrak house, the sound of a child’s rattle was simply background noise and if you didn’t like it that way, then you’d have to leave.  
“I’m not sure, but Richie...er...your dada messaged me saying he was going to bring Stanley Uris along. He wanted me to ask you if that was okay.” Frank smiled sweetly as he packed the last of the mango fruit strips into Eddie’s diaper bag. The little nodded vigorously, not even listening. He was to busy thinking about what kind of stuffie he would get,   
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Eddie sped down the hall, the rug sliding under his feet. He fell face-first into the wood floor earning a gasp from Frank, but Eddie bounced right back, continuing his run for the door.  
He threw it open and there stood Richie, dressed in a neon green Stan at his side.   
Eddie frowned at the sight of the overly neat, curly-haired, birdwatching boy next to his daddy. He thought it was just supposed to be him and Richie. Not Stan.  
“What’s he doing here?” Eddie asked. His tone was a bit harsher than he meant it to be.  
Stan frowned and Richie ruffled the little’s hair.  
“Stan was a little lonely, buba. He was reading that lame, old birdy book again and I asked if he wanted to come.”  
Eddie pressed his lips together in dismay as he thought about this for a second.  
“Well, I guess it’s okay. Stan is my best friend after all.” He decided. Stan still felt like he wasn’t wanted there, but whatever. He wasn’t about to walk back to Richie’s now.

Frank handed Rich the diaper bag and looked down at Eddie. “Sorry, bug. I gotta go to work. My boss just called and said I have a few files J need to finish by Tuesday and he wants me to get a headstart on them.” He smiled a little, but Eddie frowned, his bottom lip quivering and the hand that held his rattle stopped shaking.  
“I know. It’s disappointing. But you can still go with Richie and Stanley!” Frank gave Eddie an Eskimo kiss.

Even though he wanted his real dad to come with him, he was perfectly fine with just his daddy and best friend.


	6. Get Along (pt 2)

Richie stopped his bike in front of the rack and gently picked Eddie up. After a few seconds Stan -who hated riding his bike as fast as Richie- pulled up too and adjusted his wind-blown curls.  
“So, are we just here to get toys? Or…?” The boy asked, confused. Richie nodded.  
“Yeah, basically. And maybe some nighttime diapers because last I checked, this little squirt was running out. But mainly toys and stuff.” He answered, grasping Eddie’s hand. Eddie cooed and nodded along with what his daddy was saying. It made sense to his little brain that they were getting toys, so he didn’t really care about the nighttime diaper comment.  
The little just wanted his toys.

The mall was bright, colourful, and full of so many wonderful smells that Eddie felt like his nose was going to overload and start to bleed or something. But it didn’t. That was good. Blood made Eddie’s knees weak sometimes.  
But the smells were incredible. Popcorn, pretzels, Panda Express’s Chinese food, Rocky Rococo’s pizza that made Stanley gag when he saw it, Dairy Queen, and restaurants that Eddie hadn’t even heard of. One that was selling something called ‘gyros’ and another selling ‘deep-fried calamari’.  
Eddie had no idea what ‘gyros’ were, nor did he know what ‘calamari’ was, but he guessed it was probably good. Especially if the mall was selling it.

“Dada!” Eddie exclaimed. “What is this place?”  
Little Eddie had never been to the mall. It was almost like his senses were reset each time he regressed, so these smells were unfamiliar.  
“It’s the food court. This place has hella good food. Especially Rocky Rococo’s.” Richie leaned in as he said that, mocking Stan. Stanley rolled his eyes and tried not to picture the food Richie was mentioning.  
“Let’s just get something to eat. Just standing outside the front door makes my stomach angry.” Stan says looking hopefully towards the Subway. That was Bill’s favourite.  
“Stan has his eyes on Sooubway. What do you think Eddie baby? Where do you wanna go?” Richie asked. Eddie’s eyes gleamed with wonder.  
He had so many places he wanted to try, he had so many questions too; Why didn’t Stan like the Rocky Rococo place? What did they serve there? Were there cookies at Subway? Didn’t Bev bring him a Subway sandwich one time when he was big Eddie? Did Panda Express serve panda meat? He didn’t want to eat panda meat. That’s nasty.

Instead of asking this flood of questions, he just pointed to Subway and jumped up and down excitedly.

…

They sat down at a table with their subs, still laughing at a Karen who had asked for a refund because her chocolate chip cookie didn’t have enough chocolate.  
“She was like ‘WHY THE HELL ISN’T MY COOKIE BROWN!?’ The way that the staff looked at her, like: ‘Did you bring a receipt though?” Richie snorted. Stan held back a laugh and gently took Eddie’s sandwich from him.  
Eddie’s dark brown eyes went wide, worrying that Stan was taking his food. His worries were washed away after Stan smiled at Eddie, unwrapped the sandwich, and spoke quietly.  
“I’m not taking your food, Eddie. I’m not like my parents, I promise. I’d never hurt you.”  
Eddie felt his body relax and he took the now open sandwich from Stan.

“Eat up, chile. This may be your last meal. You never know.” Richie’s voice dropped into a low and dark tone as he mimicked a voodoo witch from Louisiana. It frightened Eddie a little bit, but he knew that Richie was joking, so he giggled.  
“Daddy! No kidding around! We gots to eat our food now!” He cried out in his sweet agere voice.  
Eddie took a bite out of his sandwich, which consisted of roast beef, swiss cheese, olives, and tomatoes. It was what he ordered all by himself and he couldn’t have been prouder.

With vivid detail, Eddie began describing exactly what stuffie he wanted, but he made sure he never talked with his mouthful.  
“It needs to be a bear. A black bear. With a brown snout and a black button nose. And it needs to be fuzzy, but not too fuzzy. And I need to be able to put it in the washing machine so it has to be able to hold it’s breath for long periods of time. Or at least be able to take a magic kiss to give it the ability to breathe underwater.” Eddie ranted.  
Stan and Richie just nodded, wondering if it was possible to find a bear with these abilities.


End file.
